Eclipse
by M306117
Summary: Noble Six, a Spartan shrouded in mystery and surrounded by death. An assassin and a soldier. They will fall with Reach and give humanity some hope.But before then, before Reach and Noble Team, they are dragged into another war and tasked with causing the fall of a tyrannical leader. To do so, at least six targets must be removed before darkness can fall across the land.
1. Coercions and Assassinations

**AN: ****I don't own My Little Pony or Halo. They belong to Hasbro and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Coercions and Assassinations

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** aboard UNSC Frigate **_**Tempest**_**. 1100 Hours, March 10, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

You are a Spartan, first and foremost a weapon.

You trained hard for years to become one, pushing yourself to become hyper lethal, to prove you had what it takes.

That was seven years ago.

Since then, you became a lone wolf assassin, sent to make whole militia groups disappear from the face of the galaxy and to stop the merciless alien Covenant from killing any more humans, civilian or otherwise.

You like fighting them the most. After all, they took away your home, your family, and then your friends.

Each battle against the Covenant isn't just about buying humanity some time, it's about getting bloody revenge for everyone they've taken away.

You hope to go down fighting them, taking as many of the alien bastards with you as possible, and soon you will on the planet Reach, sacrificing yourself to let the _Pillar of Autumn _and its precious cargo escape.

But that isn't for a few months yet.

You aren't Noble Six now. You aren't anywhere near the Epsilon Eridani system.

You are Lieutenant SPARTAN-B312, aboard a UNSC frigate speeding back from one battle to head into another, a counter insurgency operation on Mamore, and you know something has gone wrong.

You know because as the cover of the cryo tube slides upwards, and the initial grogginess of cryosleep fades, you hear alarms going off.

Your eyes bring the room into focus and you see a technician stood before you, worry and concern on his face, and adrenaline surges through your system.

Waking up to alarms and nervous crewman is never good news, especially when the deck rumbles beneath you.

'Sorry for the quick thaw, Spartan,' the technician says as you haul yourself up and out of the cryo tube. 'Captain asked for the whole ship to be at full alert, and that included everyone in the freezers.'

He holds out an object for you to take and you recognise it as a wake up stim.

You take and inject its contents, feeling your body become more alert as the drugs in your system to keep you under during cryo are counteracted, both by the stimpack you just injected and your own body metabolising them.

The deck rumbles again then falls still.

'What's going on?' you ask the technician stood before you, their eyes drawn to the multitude of scars and burns marring your ghostly white skin, a side effect of harsh battles and spending too long inside your armour respectively.

'I, uh, I dunno,' the technician says, one hand rubbing the back of their head as they turn away from your nude form. 'We were travelling through slipspace like normal when all of a sudden the whole ship just transitions back to normal space. We tried to jump again, couldn't, then something starts dragging us towards this planet.'

You frown. 'Dragging us towards a planet?'

The technician shrugs. 'That's what they said. I didn't even pretend to understand it. Captain then gave order for everyone to be thawed out so that's what I did.'

Another rumble through the deck.

'We're trying to break free, pushing the engines as hard as we can, but it looks like they'll melt long before we can.'

You nod.

'Come on,' the technician says. 'I'll take you to your armour. I think the captain would want you suited and ready to kick ass.'

You nod again and follow the technician, pausing only to put on some borrowed fatigues barely big enough to fit your tall frame.

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** aboard UNSC Frigate **_**Tempest**_**. 1236 Hours, March 10, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

The ship fails to free itself from whatever is dragging it down in the time it takes you to put on your MJOLNIR armour, a masterpiece of human engineering.

It augments your already enhanced speed and strength, protects you from toxins and lets you breath in space, and has a recharging energy shield that covers you completely.

Without the armour, you're tough. With it, you're almost invincible.

It is a little on the heavy side, though, so you have to pick your routes carefully during an escape but as you walk down the corridor to the bridge, you can hardly tell.

Your feet come down with the barest of thuds, an old habit that became second nature, and many turn in surprise when they see you out of the corner of their eye.

You ignore the stares and march onto the bridge, a compact and crowded room filled with monitors, computers, and frustrated naval personnel trying to free their ship from an unknown and incomprehensible force.

Stood at the opposite end of the room to you, hands clasped behind their back as they glare angrily at three screens, all of them displaying different things, is the person in charge of the ship.

'Captain Fontaine,' you say, coming to a halt and standing at attention behind them.

Fontaine glances over her shoulder at you, says, 'at ease', then beckons you to stand next to her.

You comply, coming to parade rest, and take in the three screens.

On one is a picture of a planet, taken from orbit most likely, and you guess it's the one the _Tempest _is currently being dragged towards.

A list containing numbers and statistics roll down past the side of the image, atmospheric analysis and gravity strength estimates, and you see that the numbers are nearly Earth-norm, meaning you and anyone else that gets deployed will have no difficulty working on the ground.

In fact, the gravity is slightly less and the atmosphere slightly more oxygenated so if anything, you'll feel slightly better.

'Got no idea what's brining us down, Spartan,' Fontaine tells you. 'Must be something powerful to drag us from slipspace. I'm thinking Covenant or worse. You feel up for breaking whatever it might be to free us?'

'Ma'am. Yes, ma'am,' you say.

A small smile tugs at the captain's face but it's quickly gone and the two of you lapse into silence, waiting as the _Tempest _is slowly but surely brought ever closer to the mysterious planet.

Details become more obvious as time goes on, starting with major geographical features like oceans and continents, then the larger mountain ranges and forests, before the cameras begin to pick up the outlines of cities and roads.

There's life down there, it would seem.

'Full combat load,' Fontaine says. 'Soon as we hit atmo and get closer, we'll send you via Falcon to the source that's brining us down. Recon it, report your findings, then we'll go from there.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

You come to attention and salute, then depart and make your way down the halls and corridors of the _Tempest._

It's not a big ship, frigates never are, and the _Tempest _is a Paris-class heavy frigate. Most of the internal space is given over to a reinforced superstructure and enlarged reactor, as well as thicker armour, so while it may have been similar in length externally to the Charon- and Stalwart-class ships of the line, internally it was very much smaller.

As a result, the journey from the bridge to the armoury was short and within fifteen minutes of setting off for it, you have a DMR clipped to your armour with enough ammo for it to carry out a prolonged battle, alongside fragmentation grenades and demolition packs, just in case.

You return to the bridge as the _Tempest _enters the outer layers of the unknown planet's atmosphere, causing it to rumble and shake yet again, though the descent is comparatively tame to other landings you've gone through.

Fontaine says nothing as you stand behind and to the left of her, both your gazes on the forward viewscreens, watching as the frigate drifts lazily downwards when the deck lurches slightly beneath your feet.

'Report,' Fontaine says as the ship settles.

'Minor course alteration,' NAV says. 'Whatever is bringing us down, it's taking us down over a forest.'

'Any cities or towns in the vicinity of this forest?' Fontaine asks.

'Yes, ma'am. Based on current angle of descent and speed, there'll be a city within forty miles of our position. It's also the location of the energy source.'

Fontaine nods and turns to you.

'Spartan, once we're stationary, I'll dispatch you in a Falcon to found what took us out of the sky. Go in quickly, go in quietly, and engage anything you see at your discretion.'

You nod and acknowledge the order and continue to wait as the ship keeps descending.

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** aboard Falcon Mike-30. 1500 Hours, March 10, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

The _Tempest _finally came to a halt and you, aboard a Falcon with an ODST crew, depart the trapped frigate and head to the nearby town with its mysterious gravity well.

You sit in one of the jump seats, nestled between the Falcon's machine guns that are manned by ODSTs dressed in their distinctive combat armour, while opposite you are another two Helljumpers, assault rifles cradled in their arms.

Behind you is the sun, low in the sky and getting lower, and long shadows race out away from it, casting the countryside in darkness that hides who knows how many threats and dangers to your solitary craft.

Ahead lies the unknown, the city, that draws closer with every passing minute.

'Five mikes to contact,' the pilot announces. 'Repeat, five mikes to contact. Keep 'em peeled, troopers.'

Both machine gunners check their weapons to make sure the first of many several hundred rounds are loaded and the two ODSTs with assault rifles do the same, ejecting the magazines and visually confirming they're full, before slapping them back in.

They bump fists with one another, psyching themselves up for possible contact with a hostile enemy and doing what they do best when confronted by such a thing, and tense up.

You stay settled in your seat, checking your own rifle over but with much less gusto.

It's a precision weapon, and you are a professional. Slapping the magazine in, even to get you mentally prepared for combat, could nudge the carefully calibrated scope out of alignment, even by a few millimetres.

It might not, but you don't take chances. Never with your weapons.

'Two mikes,' the pilot says. 'One mike. Contact.'

Beneath you, the scenery changes from forests to wide open space before that too gives way to stone buildings, their monolithic appearance and simplistic design telling you they're warehouses, nothing more, and you and your team of Helljumpers flies over an alien city on an alien world.

You never seen one, no one in the UNSC has. You don't know where the Covenant lives so you can't attack their homes, so this is a first for you but at the same time, the situation is a little disappointing.

You expected the city to be full of spires that reached miles into the sky, decorated with ornate etchings that told tales of bravery and heroism, chronicling legends and lore, and glittering metal walkways that carried beings of unknown shapes, sizes, and colours going about their daily lives.

What you see is about as far from that as possible.

The buildings are simplistic, plain, their only decoration coming from gothic accents along the edges of roofs, and the tallest building you can see is sat in the centre of the city, a castle, that rises maybe ten stories before terminating in a single tower, atop which lies a clock of gothic design.

There are no ornate etchings, no walkways, and the beings you see are not of an unknown shape or size, they are instead recognisable as creatures of myth, of legend.

They are griffins, walking and flying about their city and carrying out tasks that are no less alien to you than the rifle in your hands.

Some are carrying bags filled with food, some are sitting at outdoor cafes and drinking, and some are enjoying a walk in the evening sky.

The activities are recognisably human, even if the creatures carrying them out are both alien and mythological, and your disbelief is shared by the ODSTs, their responses not quite as quiet as your own.

'Fucking hell,' one of the machine gunners say. 'This is an alien city?'

'Apparently,' his opposite replies.

On the ground and in the air, dozens look up and see their Falcon but do nothing more than point at it. None scream, or flee, or rise up and take flight to take a closer look. They simply accept the alien craft as just another facet of their daily life.

You lean over and take a quick look at the ground when the pilot alerts you and the ODSTs to four contacts on an intercept course.

You look and see four griffins, two each side of the Falcon, come up and assume escort positions, gesturing at the castle with claws.

They have no surprise on their faces, no concern, and no hints of hostile intent, just the same neutral expression as the others on the ground.

'Orders?' the pilot asks you.

'Follow them,' you say. 'I think they were expecting us.'

The pilot acknowledges the order and adjusts her heading, aiming for the castle.

The four escorting griffins adjust as well and stay level until the Falcon reaches the outer wall of the imposing castle where you see a spot marked out in the inner courtyard, a large X surrounded by six flaming torches that mark out a rough circle big enough to land in.

You give the order and the Falcon's pilot loses altitude, easing the VTOL aircraft to a gentle stop right on the X, the rotor wash causing the torches to sputter and go out.

The pilot kills power to the engines and silence falls over everything barring the tick of metal as it cools and contracts or the rasp of yours and the Helljumper's armour as they twist and turn, checking for threats.

Within a minute, four more griffins appear from a nearby door, dressed in ceremonial looking armour, and form a corridor between it and the Falcon, snapping to attention.

A fifth griffin appears and stands on the door's threshold, peering expectantly at the aircraft and its occupants.

'Dismount,' you order. 'Weapons tight. Don't fire unless attacked first. Pilot, with us.'

A bank of green lights flash back at you and the five Helljumpers follow you in getting out of the Falcon, weapons gripped tightly, and head for the waiting griffin.

They turn smartly on their foot and walk into the castle at a measured and deliberate pace, one that you can keep up with without trying.

The ODSTs fall in behind you without a word, the doors to the courtyard closing behind them with a definitive thud, and the four griffins that had come through them to begin with take up the rear, an honour guard.

Inside the castle it's quiet, dimly lit, and in possession of the minimalistic-gothic design as everywhere else.

Occasionally, you pass by a flaming torch that decorates the walls with dancing shadows and orange hues, a randomly shifting puppet show with no story and no consistency.

The deeper into the castle you go, the more often you see these flames and their shadows, positioned next to stout wooden doors that are sometimes open and sometimes closed, and on a very rare occasion they passed by another griffin but they merely gave the passing party a quick glance as if to see who it was and whether they knew them.

It troubles you the lack of a more overt reaction to seeing six alien creatures casually walking through such a large castle that no doubt was home to someone or something of great importance.

It was one of the Helljumpers who actually put that feeling into words.

'I got a bad feeling about this,' they said.

No one saw any reason to correct her.

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** inside unknown city, inside city castle. 1525 Hours, March 10, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

The group of griffins and humans finally arrived before an imposing set of doors that towered over them all, solid and heavy looking, yet they parted with the barest of whispers to reveal a high ceilinged room that contained numerous stained glass windows and tapestries of stylised griffins.

What may have been writing sat beneath each picture, set against a backdrop of colour that varied between pictures.

But what draws your attention the most are the three figures sat on high-backed chairs directly opposite you.

One is a griffin wearing a sash across their chest, a scar running through one eye and past their beak, and next to them is not another griffin, but either a horse or a pony.

You can't be sure because they're too tall to be a pony but have too small a body and too long legs to be called a horse, further muddying the issue is the presence of both wings and a horn.

It was neither a unicorn or a Pegasus, and it seemed to be looking right at you.

Beside them was another pony, this one lacking wings and horn, and was jet black whereas the other was a deep blue, almost midnight in tone.

You glance at the Helljumpers who glance back then begin walking towards the three waiting figures, following the griffin that guided you to this throne room.

The ODSTs stay on your tail and once you are all within a few dozen feet of the two ponies and single griffin, you stop and your tour guide departs.

Behind you, the double doors swing shut with another whisper and silence falls over the room.

For the longest of times, neither side moves or says anything until the blue creature, the unicorn/Pegasus combination, opens its mouth and speaks in perfect English with a feminine voice.

'You must have plenty of questions,' she says. 'About what brought you here, the response your arrival got, why we can understand each other.'

You nod.

'I am that reason,' she says. 'I detected your ship and brought it here, and I was the one who told the citizens of this city what to expect.'

'Why?' you ask, staring at the pony.

'I...' she begins before looking at the griffin next to her, changing her mind. '_We_ need your help. There is a threat to us both, to the griffins living here and to ponies loyal to me, and neither of us can stop or defeat it.'

She holds her hoof out for you to shake.

'My name is Luna, and I am sorry for stopping your ship from returning home, but time is desperate and we need your help.'

You don't move to shake her hoof, nor do any of the ODSTs, and gradually Luna lowers and takes away her proffered appendage, shame and understanding on her face.

'What threat?' you ask.

'Her sister,' the griffin says, voice low and gravelly and the opposite end of the spectrum compared to Luna's more refined tone. 'She's planning to attack and wipe us all out.'

You look at the griffin then turn to Luna.

'How did you pull our ship from slipspace?' you ask her.

'I used my magic,' Luna says. 'I have enough power to move the moon that orbits the planet around. Your ship posed no challenge to me, even when travelling at such velocities. It is unfortunate and inexcusably, but there was no other way for me to get your attention.'

'Magic?' an ODST says in disbelief. 'As in, hocus pocus, abracadabra, poof of smoke, rabbits in a hat, kind of magic?'

Luna glances at the ODST that spoke, her face registering no reaction, but she shakes her head.

'You've got out attention now,' you say to the pony. 'You drag our ship from slipspace and force it to land here. What do you want?'

For a very brief moment, guilt and remorse sweep across Luna's face and she looks down at the floor before grimacing and looking back up.

'My sister, she wants to rule over this entire planet, to create a kingdom where ponies rule and all others are... _removed _from it to maintain what she calls the purity of power.' Luna looks at the griffin who remains impassive. 'I disagreed with such an idea, even tried to challenge her dominance and overthrow her, but she was too powerful.

'I fled here with a small number of ponies loyal to me, loyal to an idea where everything has a right to live, not just one race, and all the while my sister grows more powerful with each passing day. She must be stopped before it's too late.'

'And we can succeed where you failed how?' you ask. 'If what you say is true, and you can move a moon around, then how can we be of any use? None of us have that much power to hand and if your sister can best you, we won't stand much chance.'

'Not in a straight battle, no,' Luna says in agreement. 'But there are other ways.'

Her horn glows with a luminous blue and a scroll floats out from behind her to hover in front of you.

Cautiously, you pluck it from the air and unfurl it to see a photo is affixed to one side, showing six ponies in a multitude of hues huddled close to each other with enthusiasm, smiling for the camera.

'Those six ponies are close to my sister,' Luna says as you study the image, memorising the faces. 'They act as a war counsel for her. She listens to them, confers with them on matters of grave importance. They helped her to defeat me.'

She looks down at the ground, upset and regretful.

'They were my friends once,' Luna says. 'We were close, but my sister managed to turn them all against me so thoroughly that I doubt they would listen to me, or recall me with a favourable light.'

'What does that have to do with us?' you ask but even now, you have an inkling of what this Luna will ask you to do.

She raises her head and fixes you with a determined stare tinged with guilt, remorse, and sadness of what she is about to ask you.

'I want you to kill them,' Luna says. 'Kill them and my sister's power will waver. She will become weak, become vulnerable, and I will be able to best her in combat when we next meet.'

You look at the photo again, this time memorising each pony in it and taking photos of it with the cameras on your armour.

Two are Pegasi, one blue and one yellow, and two are normal ponies, this time pink and orange. The last two are unicorns but a closer inspection reveals that of the two, the purple one has faintly visible wings whereas the white one has none.

'How soon do you need them to be killed?' you ask, thinking of a dozen different methods of killing these ponies without realising it.

'Soon,' Luna tells you before saying, 'But they can't be all at once. I need my sister to be unawares, to be lulled into thinking I'm not responsible. You need to make them look like accidents and space the killings-' She grimaces at using the word. '-so as to look unconnected and a series of instances of bad luck, not targeted attacks.'

'These six ponies, you say they're part of your sister's inner circle,' you say. 'I think once more than two are killed in a short time, suspicions will be raised and steps will be put into place to prevent more deaths. It would be easier to take them out in one fell movement.'

'If you do, my sister will retreat to a place I cannot touch her and accelerate her plans. Spread them out, one every two weeks or so, and do your best to make them look like accidents.'

You say nothing, considering the task ahead and how best to go about it, before asking, 'What would we get out of it?'

'I will let you leave,' Luna says. 'If you try to escape beforehand, I will stop and drag your ship down again. But, remove those ponies, my former friends, and I will allow you to go in peace.'

Her face falls, both at coercing you and at what she's forcing you to do, and you see that this is weighing heavily on her shoulders and that the pony would rather do anything than follow this course of action.

You hand her the scroll back and say, 'Which one of these six do you want us to kill first?'

'The yellow Pegasus,' Luna says with a weary sigh. 'Her name is Fluttershy.'


	2. Lay of the Land

**AN: ****I don't own My Little Pony or Halo. They belong to Hasbro and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Lay of the Land

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** fringes of Ponyville. 0905 Hours, March 12, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

The town of Ponyville is spread out before you, a mile or so distant but through the scope of your rifle, it looks like it's within touching distance.

You sweep the scope over the town again, memorising where the streets are, the likely escape routes, which points would make good ambush spots, all the while a small part of your mind is displeased with this mission.

Once the Luna had finished speaking with you and the Helljumpers, you were escorted to a separate room to confer with Fontaine.

She tells you to ignore Luna's commands, kill her if necessary, and find a way to get the _Tempest _back into space.

You concur, as do the ODSTs, and all of you check your weapons over.

Magazines full, safeties off, grenades at the ready. Everything needed to take down this Princess Luna by force.

The five ODSTs follow you back into the throne room but fail to see Luna, or the griffin king, but the jet black pony is present, a scroll lying on the seat next to him.

You look around the room but still fail to see anyone else.

The stallion gestured with his head to the scroll and you move to pick it up, unfurling the heavy parchment to read the contents.

_I expect that your ruler, the one in charge of the ship, will no doubt tell you to remove me, _it read. _But if you were to do that, then all of the griffins here, the dragons, Diamond Dogs, every sentient creature on this planet who isn't a pony, will be hunted down and exterminated._

_I cannot allow that._

_So, as to ensure your cooperation in this vile business, I have relocated to a secure area none of you will find or be able to reach._

_Those six ponies must die if any of us on this planet are to have even the slightest chance at living in harmony._

_The pony with this message, Shadow, will act as my envoy to you. He can communicate with me and relay messages. Whatever you need, write it down for him to deliver to me and I shall see about meeting your requirements, but be warned._

_My capabilities are limited, as are those of the ponies loyal to me in Equestria. I cannot offer much. Be wise in your requests._

_With deepest regrets,_

_Luna._

You read and reread the message twice before scrunching it up and throwing the whole thing away, Shadow silently watching you throughout.

The ODSTs shifted nervously from foot to foot, and your displeasure at the mission began to grow.

Fontaine wasn't pleased, either, but had begrudgingly accepted the terms Luna had put forward and made the decision to send you and you alone to the continent where the six targets lived, giving you free reign in deciding how each of the ponies died so long as they conformed to Luna's requirement of it looking natural or accidental, and occurring every two weeks or so.

You objected but went, and now find yourself set up on the edge of Ponyville atop a hill, a rough blanket thrown over you and your sniper rifle in an effort to conceal your effort from anything flying overhead.

The insertion was by Pelican at night, attracting no attention, and your nest was set up within the hour.

Once it was complete, you and your sniper rifle became one and the observation of Ponyville began.

There are six primary targets, six ponies you need to kill, and over the course of the morning you spotted all of them as they went about was passed for daily life in an alien world governed by equines.

The first target you spot is the orange Earth pony, Applejack, as she hauled a cart full of apples into town from her farm.

Second is the blue Pegasi, Rainbow Dash, speeding overhead with the force of a jet. You swear you heard a faint sonic boom as she goes, and a faint rainbow coloured contrail. According to a dossier Luna made containing all the information she felt necessary for the assassinations states the Pegasus helps organise the weather.

You find that slightly baffling, but are simply stumped to see her and several other Pegasus ponies physically herding clouds into one spot.

Up next is the white unicorn, Rarity, who runs a fashion shop within town and sells dresses all over Equestria. Luna's intelligence mentions there are several fashion shows coming up soon, and that the unicorn may leave Ponyville to attend them.

You left a request with Shadow to find out which, if any, of the shows she'll be going to require train travel and of those, which go over bridges that span large drops.

It wouldn't be too hard to rig a bridge to collapse just as a train goes over it.

Your next target, the one Luna asked you to kill first, comes into view.

The dossier says that Fluttershy is timid, lives on the outskirts of Ponyville well away from prying eyes, and is a vet.

Briefly, you wonder if it might be possible to provoke a dangerous animal from attacking the yellow Pegasus but decide against it.

From what you gleaned, Fluttershy has the ability to calm even the most dangerous of beasts with something called the Stare so she may be able to stop any marauding animal before it can harm her, providing you can actually get one to attack her in the first place.

No, you'll have to plan something else to make her death look anything but suspicious.

The next target is Twilight Sparkle, a fellow princess like Luna but purple where Celestia's rouge sister is midnight blue. Her abode is an impressive castle that rises above most structures in Ponyville and glints in the sun.

Luna wants her to die last for some reason, and you guess she'll tell you when the time draws nearer.

Your last target, Pinkie Pie, makes an appearance heading to Applejack's home, a white box tied to her back.

A baker, according to Luna.

You make a mental note to ask her what kinds of stoves are used in her place of work. Electric, or gas?

Until that time, you go back to observing the town and lamenting the strict rules Luna has given you.

One primary death every two weeks, rather than all at once. Madness.

From your initial observations alone, you can already come up with at least two methods of killing all six ponies in one fell swoop.

Method one involves only a single brick of C12, hidden beneath dirt and packed with shrapnel to inflict maximum damage, placed at a spot of your choosing.

Then, using one of Luna's spies within Ponyville, deliver an invitation to the six targets asking them to all be in the prearranged spot at the exact same time.

Once they're all in place, detonate and turn them all into a fine red mist.

Method two is similar to method one but in lieu of explosives, the sniper rifle in your arms is the weapon of choice.

Upon luring all six ponies to a location with clear lines of sight, preferably less than one kilometre away, and then open fire.

Rainbow Dash first because of her high speed, then Twilight Sparkle due to her ability to use magic, and then Rarity and Fluttershy. Reload, then place a bullet into Applejack and Pinkie Pie before they can run away even though a moving target is hardly a challenge to you, not at under a kilometre with a round that travels nearly 1500 metres a second.

All in all, you expect that the second scenario would take a total of four seconds, end to end, to complete including reloads.

Afterwards, you would pick up your spent brass and magazines and just walk away.

Quick, clean, efficient with minimal collateral damage.

On the other hand, if collateral damage was of no concern, then you could call in an orbital MAC strike from the _Tempest, _wipe away all of Ponyville with the impact of a 600 ton metal slug.

Or, if you really weren't bothered about collateral, a Shiva Nuke.

Ponyville is barely two miles in any direction, nestled close together around a small stream that runs through town.

The fireball given off by the detonation by a Shiva, a fifty megaton device, is _five _miles across, meaning a direct strike in the centre of town would leave nothing behind, to say nothing of the follow up shockwave, the vacuum, or the flash fires caused by the sheer intensity of the light and heat given off by the initial explosion.

Not only would Ponyville cease to be, everything within a hundred miles would suffer complete and utter destruction.

But no, to appease the being that was all but blackmailing you, you have to make the deaths look accidental, and spread them out.

You shake your head, knowing that to truly make the deaths look like freak accidents, other ponies, ones not targeted for death, would have to die to help cover the six main deaths up.

No matter how good you make it look, no matter how random the deaths may be, killing just those six ponies would raise flags regardless of how long the deaths were spread apart.

That means at least another six unassuming ponies, possibly more, will have to die to cover your tracks.

You shake your head again as your mind begins devising a method to kill Fluttershy with, wondering if Equestria has a police force of any kind and if so, would they look into the death, even going so far as to perform an autopsy on the body?

Again, you make a mental note to ask Princess Luna what the answer to your questions is as your sniper scope zeroes in on your first target, Fluttershy, as she goes about her business, completely unaware you're watching her or that her days will abruptly come to a close.

_Soon, _you think. _Soon._


	3. Killing them With Kindness

**AN: ****I don't own My Little Pony or Halo. They belong to Hasbro and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Killing Them with Kindness

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** fringes of Ponyville. 2358 Hours, March 15, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

Luna's intelligence came through, eventually, and with it, you were able to determine the manner in which Fluttershy will die.

Yes, Equestria does posses a police force but Ponyville doesn't, being a relatively small and peaceful town, and nor will the hospital perform an autopsy to determine how a pony died if the circumstances aren't suspect.

It's only if highly overt signs of death are present will they launch an inquiry, but if the external signs are small enough to be missed or easily explained away, they won't bother themselves with the hassle and hardship of cutting open someone they may have known well.

With that in mind, you wait until dark descends on Ponyville and make your way towards Fluttershy's home, right on the fringes of Ponyville and almost in the Everfree Forest.

It's dark, no lights on, and quiet.

Outside in what passes for a yard are numerous pens and chicken coops, lovingly maintained and filled with animals, according to a quick scan with the thermal imaging ability your armour has.

You hover on the fringes, scanning for any possible witnesses, but see none. The coast is clear.

Quickly, but silently, you make your way to the front door of Fluttershy's cottage.

It's locked, and you don't see any kind of mechanism that you can pick, which points to a latch on the inside, and while you could easily overwhelm the metal and wood with a swift kick, your goal is to remain a silent killer, a ghost, so you search for another means of getting in.

The night air is cool, but still warm enough that inside a structure it might still be hot enough to require an open window to allow some heat to escape, and to allow nocturnal animals the chance to flit in and out as they please.

With luck, your predication turns out to be true and you find an open window on the ground floor, ajar enough to allow a cooling breeze in and nocturnal animals out.

You take a quick photo, so you know how far down the frame has to be upon your exit, then slowly and gently ease the wooden construction up far enough to squeeze yourself through, taking care not to disturb whatever trinkets may or may not line the window sill.

There are none and you find yourself standing in what you assume to be the living room.

It contains a few sofas, tables, and a fireplace, plus a staggering amount of bird boxes, cages, mouse holes, and perches for almost every conceivable kind of animal, as well as, you're sure, a few a few you can't even begin to imagine.

You hear gentle snores coming from every direction, from all the boxes and holes and cages, and the gentle creaking and ticking as the cottage cools and contracts in the night air, but no whispers of alarm.

The ceiling is a little too low for your liking, a fact not helped by your height, so you stoop to a half crouch, silent throughout.

A nearby sofa has exactly the item you need so you grab it, and begin your search of the house for your target.

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** inside Fluttershy's cottage. 0011 Hours, March 16, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

You find her upstairs, asleep, a picture of peace.

She has a content look on her face, maybe a slight smile, and the covers of her bed drawn up tight.

It strikes you as odd that this pony, this supposedly timid veterinarian, has so much sway over Celestia. You expected her to be living in a much larger home, closer to Ponyville, not isolating herself from everyone by staying on the fringes of an apparently dangerous forest.

On the floor beside her bed is a basket, a fluffy blue blanket lining it, with a fluffy white rabbit asleep inside it.

You manage to make out the name Angel scribbled on the basket's front, the rabbit's name you guess.

It doesn't seem to notice you, nor does Fluttershy, as the pair continues sleeping.

Luna's dossier springs to mind, a little side note about a pet Fluttershy owned, the rabbit presumably.

The report mentioned the rabbit to be loyal to Fluttershy, to the point of appointing himself some kind of protector to his owner, and had a decent amount of intelligence.

What that meant, you don't know, but you fear it might mean Angel could, if awoken during Fluttershy's death, be able to put the police onto the idea of this being an unnatural murder.

How to prevent that?

Kill the rabbit to begin with springs to mind, but you feel that might be too suspicious.

Render Angel unconscious also flashes through your head, but how? You lack any kind of sedative, nor do you know the correct dosage to put the rabbit under only temporarily, so a sleeper hold?

Again, you discredit the idea.

Between your augmented strength and the fact Angel would fit in the palm of your hand makes it more likely his neck would be snapped by accident.

You look at Fluttershy again, thinking, then theorise that, as a vet of sorts, she might have animal tranquilisers somewhere in her home.

A quick check reveals she does, and appropriately labelled in their bottles, along with the necessary tools to apply the sedative.

You fill a syringe to the appropriate level then quietly approach Angel, the rabbit's only reaction to your presence being an opening of his eyes when the needle is injected but, as you were behind him, sees only empty air before the drug kicks in and the rabbit is sent into an artificial sleep.

With the potential threat neutralised, you return to the foot of Fluttershy's bed, watching the mare as she sleeps.

You wonder what dreams she may be having, what her plans for the future were, whether she was meeting anyone later today or not, and why she held so much pull with Celestia.

Ultimately, though, your questions will remain unanswered as you raise the cushion from downstairs and place it over her sleeping face, pressing down hard enough to keep her from wriggling free but not so hard it leaves marks.

Within seconds of having her air supply cut off, her eyes snap open in confusion and panic, her fear no doubt rising a thousand fold at seeing a dark and alien figure holding a cushion over her mouth and nose.

She begins to panic more, letting out muffled screams as her four hooves start to thrash out, striking your armour but doing nothing against the hardened plates and energy shield.

Her bed cover is thrown off, revealing her body in its entirety, and her eyes lock onto your faceplate, becoming more intense.

You recall from her profile that this is probably something referred to as the Stare, a means of getting belligerent animals to obey her, and you quickly switch to thermal vision, reducing Fluttershy to a multitude of colours that signify how warm each part of her is.

How this Stare might have affected you, you don't know but aren't about to take any chances.

Soon after, Fluttershy's kicks become less and less, softer and softer, her cries quieter and quieter until she falls still, silent.

You keep the cushion in place for two more minutes, just to be sure she isn't faking you out, then take it away.

Fluttershy's face is slightly less peaceful than it had been mere minutes ago, mouth open in a scream and a desperate search for vital oxygen, and her eyes are half lidded, bloodshot around the edges, but her eyelids are devoid petechiae haemorrhaging, likely hidden behind her yellow coat.

You replace her bed covers, put Fluttershy's body into her earlier sleeping position, close her eyes and mouth to give the appearance of slumber, and take a step back to regard the scene.

No obvious signs of a struggle, no overt wounds on her body to suggest foul play, no sign of a disturbance anywhere else. Murder would not be the initial thought of whoever found the body first, but of an unexpected yet natural death that occurred whilst the mare was asleep.

A tragedy, yes, but not suspicious.

Now you need to remove any possible traces of your existence from the house, starting with the sedative you used on Angel, and then the cushion used to smother the pony.

You check both sides of the cushion, spot a slight amount of saliva on the side that touched Fluttershy. It's vaguely in the outline of her mouth, with an accompanying bit of snot from her nose, but it's only on the cover. The soft insert is clean of any saliva or snot, and you take a moment to wash the cover in the bathroom, dry it out on a radiator, then return the murder weapon to where you found it in case one of Fluttershy's friends makes not of a missing cushion.

The last thing you do before leaving is to place a small microphone in the corner of where two beams meet above Fluttershy's bed, just so you can listen in when her body is discovered.

With the window you came through slid back to the correct height, you retrieve your sniper rifle and set up a small nest in the forest surrounding the cottage, waiting for the body to be discovered.

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** near Fluttershy's cottage. 1122 Hours, March 18, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

It takes two days for anyone to realise Fluttershy hasn't been seen, despite a distraught Angel running from her home into town, gesturing that something awful had befallen his owner, though his unescorted appearance combined with the lack of Fluttershy eventually piqued her friend's worry and they set out to investigate, their screams and sobs coming in loud and clear over the microphone you planted.

Doctors are brought in, they examine the body as it lay in bed, then pronounced the death natural despite not knowing what might have caused it.

More tears were shed, then two paramedics carried her body out of the cottage on a stretcher, blanket covering her lifeless form, and loaded Fluttershy into a waiting ambulance.

It took off, slow and careful, for the hospital.

You track its progress until it's lost from sight, switching to your five remaining targets as they sit outside Fluttershy's cottage, crying and comforting each other.

The crosshairs of your scope rest on the next target, Pinkie Pie, as word comes in from Fontaine about the cookers used in Sugarcube Corner, Pinkie's home and place of residence.

'Gas,' the captain says. 'Luna said they use gas.'

You acknowledge then think to yourself, _collateral damage, _before wondering if you should commit another murder in the intervening weeks, just to throw off whatever suspicions there might have been but decide against it.

This was the opening assassination, successfully carried out and successfully covered up.

There are no suspicions, yet, just grieving and a sense of loss. You can afford to let the next few weeks pass by without another death.

After all, more would come soon enough.


	4. Die Laughing

**AN: ****I don't own My Little Pony or Halo. They belong to Hasbro and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Die Laughing

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** fringes of Ponyville. 1125 Hours, March 25, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

Gas.

Highly flammable if ignited one way, incredibly explosive if ignited another.

Either way, you have the means of ensuring your next target's death while giving a plausible cover.

Your only problem is actually getting the means of killing Pinkie Pie into place. That means going into Ponyville itself, breaking into Sugarcube Corner, and then planting the C12 beneath the main cooker, all the while making sure nobody sees you.

That means a night time infiltration to minimise the risk of being seen but you'd want to recon the interior of the bakery first, know where everything is, though this would mean two or more trips in total, increasing the chances of being seen exponentially.

Therefore you decide it's best to call upon one of Luna's spies scattered throughout Ponyville, have them wear a microphone and a camera to map out the interior for you and to gather intelligence.

You radio the request to Fontaine who dispatches a Helljumper to speak with Shadow, who then delivers the request to Luna, who then has to send word back to Shadow to call upon one of her followers, who then meets up with you in a clandestine location so you can give them the necessary equipment to show you what awaits in Sugarcube Corner.

This amounts to a specialised set of glasses with microphones and cameras built into the frames, continuously sending the data over on a signal that was needlessly encrypted, giving you eyes and ears inside the kitchen area.

His cover is a gas company engineer, responding to reports of a suspected gas leak in the area, and with Sugarcube Corner being a business that used gas fired ovens for long periods of time, it wasn't too hard to convince them they should have their ovens and their fittings inspected, just to be sure.

'_Now, you said somepony smelled gas?' _the owner, Mr Cake, asks Luna's spy as he followed the Earth pony into the kitchen.

'_So they say,' _the spy says, his name Clear Sky or something to that effect. '_I don't read the reports that get sent in. I just get sent to see whether they've got any merit to them.'_

You're set up deep in the forest around Ponyville, watching and listening to the feed from the glasses on your HUD.

The image is clear for the most part, barring a few intermittent fuzzy moments, and the audio is good enough to not require scrubbing by some technicians onboard the _Tempest, _so you know that what you're seeing is good enough to get a feel for the place.

'_You get sent out often?' _Mr Cake asks.

'_Eh,' _Sky says. '_Once a week or so. Usually a false alarm, or a fitting that came loose. Very rarely do I actually have to fix anything. Rarer still do I call in the big guys with their masses of equipment and ripping out of pretty much anything even remotely near the piping.'_

'_Oh.'_

You see from the feed that there's a door leading in from outside at the far end of the kitchen, directly opposite the swing doors that lead into the cafe part of Sugarcube Corner, and a generally wide open floor plan.

Counters line the outside walls, topped with various utensils, scales, and ingredients contained with opened sacks, while a small island sits in the middle of the room.

Your target, Pinkie Pie, is working on it with exuberance as small droplets of dough sail past her, accompanied on occasion with icing and frosting.

She looks up as Mr Cake steps in, sees Sky with him, and bounces over.

From the camera's position, it looks like the Earth pony is barrelling straight towards you, her hoof shooting out to grab yours in a wild shake, and the image rocks for a few seconds as Sky is met by the pink pony.

'_Hiya!' _Pinkie Pie says upon letting go of Sky's hoof. '_My name's Pinkie Pie.'_

'_Clear Sky,' _your spy says, taking a moment to correct his glasses. '_I've come to inspect reports of gas in the area.'_

'_Okie Doki Loki!' _Pinkie Pie says before bouncing away, Sky's gaze lingering on her for a few seconds before it swivels back to Mr Cake as he stands next to an oven.

'_This the main one you use?' _Sky asks, walking closer.

'_Yes,' _Mr Cake says.

'_Uh huh,' _Sky says, stepping closer still.

There's some space beneath the oven, likely half a foot or so, plenty big enough for the C12 to slide underneath.

'_How long has it been installed?'_

'_Since we opened the bakery,' _Mr Cake says.

'_And how long ago was that?' _Sky asks the stallion.

'_You don't know? But, I thought your company installed it.'_

'_Yeah, the company did. Many moons ago. Before my time, to be sure.' _The image does a close up on the back of the oven, showing you a clear view of the piping that feeds into the back. A liberal layer of dust covers it all. '_And as nopony told me, I don't know how long all this-' _Sky's hoof appeared on the feed, gesturing at the piping and fitting. '_-has been in there. Don't you just love it when management gives you all the particulars needed to do your job?'_

'_I've always worked for myself,' _Mr Cake replies.

'_Oh,' _Sky says. _'Well, it can be a real pain when you need to know something on the spot but the answer you need is several trawls through some dusty drawer a dozen miles away.' _Sky shook his head and the image shook in time with it. '_Anyway, how long have you been in business then?'_

'_Uh, fifteen years give or take.'_

'_And this was installed at the same time you started up?'_

The image shifted from dusty pipes to Mr Cake, Sky looking up at the pony as he waited for an answer.

'_Y-Yes,' _Mr Cake says while behind him, Pinkie Pie continued making something.

'_You ever had it inspected?'_

'_No.'_

Sky drew in a breath and held it, appraising Mr Cake whose expression took a slight turn for the worse.

'_Not good,' _the spy says, tapping the oven's side. _'You want to get these things looked at every couple of years, make sure nothing's going wrong. That's how things burn down, you know. A faulty pipe starts leaking gas, it slowly builds up in an enclosed space, right up until it reaches that sweet spot of oxygen-to-gas ratio and a source of ignition comes along.'_

He made an exaggerated explosion noise as a toolbox floated into view, brimming with screwdrivers, spanners, the all important hammer, and loose bits of piping.

'_I've heard horror stories of whole blocks going up because of a faulty pipe that went unnoticed.'_

Mr Cake's expression went pale, and even Pinkie Pie paused momentarily behind him, as Sky's tale was heard and processed.

'_Could that happen here?' _the baker asks. '_You know, everything going up?'_

'_Dunno,' _Sky says. '_I ain't had much a look so far.' _He nodded at the oven. '_Do you think you could help me pull this forward a bit? I need to check the connections and make sure there aren't any breaks in the pipe.'_

The image shifted to show the front of the oven and Mr Cake, both his and Sky's hooves reaching for the front of the oven and pulling it out of its little hole, a keen groaning noise emanating from the feet as they were dragged along the wooden floor.

'_Shouldn't we switch the gas off first?' _Mr Cake asks as Sky went back to the ovens behind, getting much closer to the pipes and their coatings of dust.

'_I need to be able to either hear or smell the leak first before we go switching anything off,' _Sky says, glancing briefly at the bakery's owner. '_And seeing as how the air in here is heavy with the smell of baking, I think my sense of hearing is going to be our best shot.'_

He went back to the piping, making a show of prodding and listening to them all, blowing off the cumulative fifteen years of dust to reveal the black rubber beneath.

You don't see anything that you might call a hole big enough to create a leak that would produce a noticeable smell. There's maybe a slight wrinkling where the pipe bends, time and pressure slowly compressing it into that shape, but no holes.

'_See anything?' _Pinkie Pie asks from behind Mr Cake, peering around the stallion as Sky 'worked'.

'_Nope,' _he says. '_It's either a false alarm from somepony, the leak's coming from somewhere else, or the leak _is _coming from here but just not from this end.' _He stands up and away from the pipes, looking at Mr Cake. '_Where's your gas main?'_

'_M-My what?'_

'_Gas main,' _Sky says. '_You know, where your gas supply comes in? It'll have one main pipe that has your share before branching off to your boiler and your oven. The leak may be in there.'_

'_Oh, it'll probably be in the basement, I guess,' _Mr Cake says. '_It's the only place I don't really go.'_

Sky nods. '_Well, let's go see. If there's no smell in there, it'll probably be a false alarm. That's what most of my callouts end up being.'_

The picture wavers again as Sky follows Mr Cake out of the kitchen and through the main section of Sugarcube Corner where the patrons spend their money and buy their sweets.

You think, briefly, how this practise will soon come to a sudden and violent end, another tragedy in what will eventually become a long list but your mind quickly focuses back on the task in hand of memorising everything you see about the interior of Sugarcube Corner, despite the fact your armour is copying this transmission and beaming a copy back to the _Tempest._

A mass of pink suddenly fills your vision and Pinkie Pie's voice filters in over the airwaves.

Evidently, she decided to follow Sky and Mr Cake.

'_Clear Sky's a funny name for a gas pony,' _she says, bouncing alongside Sky. '_It makes me think of the weather team but you're not a Pegasus, you're a unicorn.'_

'_Really?' _Sky says. _'I hadn't noticed.'_

Pinkie Pie giggles.

Sky looks at her.

'_You, uh, you're not... seeing anypony, are you?' _he asks.

'_Nope!' _Pinkie says. '_Why?'_

'_Well, I was wondering if you'd like to go get a drink sometime?' _Sky says to the pink pony. '_You're a pretty looking mare and I bet you'd give a stallion a wild night to remember. It's been a while since I went out with anypony and it can get pretty boring being all by my lonesome, you know? So what do you say we go out to one of the clubs in Ponyville, have a few drinks, dance, then come back to mine and do a bit more... dancing until dawn?'_

Either Pinkie Pie didn't recognise Sky was making a pass at her or simply didn't care, but she laughed regardless.

Any further answer she may have given was cut off when Mr Cake opened a door leading down into Sugarcube Corner's basement, a dark and foreboding affair, with a steep set of stairs that the bakery, his pink employee, and your spy all descend, slowly, with care.

The image goes fuzzy again, and remains like that for the duration of Sky's trip into the basement.

You see static filled pictures of gas pipes, layered with dust, and an immense boiler sitting off to one side in the basement's corner.

Accompanying these blurry images is choppy sound, fading in and out randomly, so you don't have a clear idea of what Sky may be saying, or what Mr Cake and Pinkie Pie may be asking.

So, you resign yourself to waiting until Sky re-emerges from the basement, something that happens after maybe five minutes, and the feed from the glasses becomes clearer once more.

'_-and I said, oatmeal? Are you crazy?!' _Pinkie Pie says to Sky, apparently finishing off some story that had started sometime after the signal went bad.

'_Yeah, sure,' _Sky says, sounding less than interested. '_So, anyway, about those drinks...'_

Pinkie giggles again.

'_Sure! I've got lots of punch left over from all the parties I plan. I bet we could drink it all down together.'_

'_I was thinking of something a bit harder,' _Sky replies. '_You know, cider? Or maybe vodka? I heard DJ Pon-3's playing the Stable over the weekend and they're selling shots at half price.'_

Pinkie stares at Sky, as though not quite comprehending what he's going on about.

'_Why would I want to drink vodka?' _she says. '_Everypony knows when you drink alcohol, you do stupid things.'_

'_That's kind of the point?' _Sky says. '_Drinking loosens you up, helps you have fun. Make a dull night turn into a fun one.'_

Pinkie's expression doesn't change and you hear Sky sigh over the transmission.

'_Fine. Whatever,' _he mutters. '_There'll be plenty of other mares who'll get drunk with me and will happily rut the night away.'_

Now Pinkie Pie's expression turned dour, seeming to glare at both you and Sky.

'_You were only going to take me for a drink to do that?' _she hisses.

'_I was,' _ Sky says as they re-enter the kitchen, Mr Cake giving him a similar look to Pinkie Pie. '_Though I probably should have cut my losses when you laughed the first time I asked you out. Nopony who's been clubbing before would do that.'_

He moves to inspect the rear of the oven again, a length of tubing floating in front of him.

'_Now, I'll replace this hose here, just to be safe,' _Sky says. '_I know we didn't smell any gas down there but until we can do a full inspection, and I know how important this is to your business-' _He taps the oven's side. '_-I'll just swap out an old part for a new one. Especially seeing as how it's been almost two decades since you had it inspected.'_

'_Are you sure we should be using it at all?' _Mr Cake asks. '_I mean, a gas leak could do some serious damage, couldn't it? Wouldn't it be safer to just not use the oven or the boiler until somepony can do a more thorough check?'_

'_Probs,' _Sky says as his magic manipulates a screwdriver, some pliers, and the replacement hose in a complex dance behind the oven. '_But I know you, being a bakery, depend on this for business. I don't want to be the one who causes Ponyville's most popular bakery and cafe to go out of business. Besides, we didn't smell gas downstairs so the leak's not there, and I didn't spot any holes in the tube.'_

The old rubber hose sails away from the oven and the new hose is slotted into place, Sky's magic easing it onto the two pipe ends, a jubilee clip ready to hold it in place.

'_Like I said, it'll be a false alarm. But, just to be on the safe side, leave the windows in here open overnight and have whoever uses this first thing in the morning to leave the gas on a few seconds without lighting it and to smell for gas.' _He looks at Mr Cake. '_What time is that, anyway?'_

'_Half six, seven o'clock,' _he says. '_It all depends on how big an order we have to fill that day.'_

Sky nods. '_Well, make sure you sniff thoroughly for gas before lighting up. You smell gas, you cut off the supply and send word to us ASAP. Otherwise, you'll be fine.'_

He gathers up his tools and puts them back into his toolbox, taking a moment alongside Mr Cake to slide the oven back flush with the counters surrounding it.

'_Now what are you going to do tonight?' _Sky asks.

'_Leave the windows in the kitchen open,' _Mr Cake says.

'_And what are you going to do tomorrow?'_

'_Try the gas for a few seconds, see if we can smell it, then either turn it off if we can smell gas or use it like normal.'_

Sky nods his head and you can image him smiling.

'_Good,' _he says. '_Good. Do that, and nopony gets hurt.'_

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** interior of Ponyville. 2359 Hours, March 25, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

It's dark inside Ponyville at night with not a soul in sight.

You take some solace from this but know it can change at a moment's notice.

To this end, you carry a suppressed pistol, lamenting the lack of an M6/SOCOM and the integral suppressor it posses, knowing it'll be quieter than the attachment threaded onto your pistol's barrel now. It's also shorter, meaning CQB won't be as much of a hassle.

But you know that lamenting over things you don't have will only distract you from focusing on what you have to do now, that being planting the C12 underneath the oven in Sugarcube corner.

You know Sky could have planted it while 'checking' it out but don't want to entrust a pony with handling high explosives, even plastic explosives which are known for safety.

So it's a foray into Ponyville, armed with only your knife and a suppressed pistol, and a single brick of C12 clutched in your hand.

The shadows are numerous but small, often leaving you treading the line between visible and invisible, and while your armour's colour blends in sometimes, other times it doesn't, but it's the colour you chose, a flare of personality to make it known to those around you that there is a human inside all the metal.

Perhaps not a normal human, but a human nonetheless.

Sugarcube Corner soon comes into view, sat in the middle of where two roads meet, a sort of island amidst packed dirt.

The thought barely registers in your mind, a branch that was momentarily caught on a rock as it travels downstream before the current catches it again and is taken away, and you quickly open one of the many windows that line the kitchen.

It's a tight fit, made all the more difficult by a need to avoid disturbing the cooking paraphernalia that adorns the counters.

You manage it and pause a moment, regarding the scene of what could be described as organised chaos, provided one worked here and knew where everything was, then shake your head clear and angle towards the oven.

The metal ticks and contracts, cooling off in the night air, and you waste little time in planting the C12 in the gap beneath it, facing the detonation circuits to the wall so the green activation light can't be seen.

You step back, drop to Mrs Cake's head height, the shortest member of the Sugarcube Corner bakery team, and try to spot the hidden explosive device.

Nothing.

Satisfied, you nod your head and return to the window, stopping only to place a small camera in a concealed spot that overlooks the cooker, slipping back out into the night time air of Ponyville, a ghost of death.

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** fringes of Ponyville. 0009 Hours, March 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

The town isn't quite as dead as you thought, a sudden appearance of two unicorns forcing you to stop, drop, and crawl backwards into a small patch of shadows that barely conceals your huge frame.

Your pistol stays down low, held with two hands, as your head tracks the ponies as they walk down the street.

Both are unicorns, one a mare and one a stallion, one lime green and one blue, but only the mare pauses as she goes, her head swivelling towards your locations.

You freeze, watching the pony as she takes a small step towards you, trying to determine whether she can see you or not.

The moon is out but half of it is shrouded in shadow, hanging somewhere to your left, and you're crouched behind a wall that defines a garden. It's not very tall, which is why you're down on one knee and slumped over, almost tucked into a ball.

The shadow cast by the wall in the moonlit sky isn't quite as deep as you'd like, ending a scant inch from your knee, and reflected light from the windows and the sparsely positioned streetlights is enough to highlight the shiner parts of your armour.

Then there's the shield emitter's glow to contend with, a dozen or so glowing slits positioned all over your body to produce that wondrous protective barrier that right now, instead of saving your life, might just reveal your position.

Seconds pass and the mare takes another step closer, straining to see in the darkness.

You plot your motions should she see you.

Bring pistol up, target further pony, fire, target closer pony, fire, collect spent brass, pick up both bodies, flee into Everfree Forest, dispose of bodies.

The initial phase will be quick, taking scarcely two seconds, but the follow up phases will take much longer, and requires you to carry two dead bodies from Ponyville at a flat sprint.

Someone will hear something, someone will see something, and word will spread throughout town and, potentially, to Celestia.

_Move on, _you silently will the pony. _See nothing. Do nothing except walk away._

The unicorn hesitates, one hoof in the air as if to take a step, when her companion calls out.

'Hey, Lyra,' the stallion says. 'What's wrong?'

'I think I see something,' this Lyra says. 'Right there, next to that wall.'

She points right at you, you tighten your grip on the pistol, rerunning the motions yet again.

'I don't see anything,' the stallion says. 'Come on, we'll be late.'

'There's something there, Tyco,' Lyra insists. 'I know it.'

The stallion, Tyco, walks back towards Lyra, scrutinising your hiding spot.

'Probably a bin or something,' he says. 'You know how your mind gets when you've had a few.'

Tyco walks up to Lyra and nudges her shoulder, playfully, and tugs on her ear, suggestively.

'Come on,' he says, letting go. 'It's late, it's dark, it's dropping cold. Don't you want to go home, crawl into bed, and find a way of keeping warm?'

He gives her ear another tug, pulling Lyra away from you, and she relents, a smile forming on her face.

'Yeah,' she murmurs. 'Probably a bin. Nothing to worry about.'

The pony makes a show of shivering, pressing against Tyco for warmth, and they begin to walk off.

You let out a sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding.

'So how do you suggest we keep warm?' Lyra asks as they continue down the street.

You track them to a house not too far away, a two storey affair, with a lock that requires a key to be opened.

The moment you see that, two thoughts form in your mind.

First off, the female is a possible witness. She looked right at you, came close, maybe even close enough for her sober mind to realise it wasn't a bin she saw, but something altogether different, which could cause panicked discussions throughout the town that might even lead to a comprehensive search of Ponyville and the surrounding countryside, or a closer look at Fluttershy's death, and Pinkie's too.

Secondly, the lock on their house is operated by a key, not a latch. You can break into it without leaving much evidence behind of tampering.

The two thoughts conspire into a new thought.

_Camouflage, _you think.

The six ponies Celestia holds close need to be eliminated, but masked to avoid revealing that they're being targeted, or that Luna is behind it all, and you know that at least six innocent ponies have to die for this to be a successful operation.

You mark Lyra's house on your maps, knowing that in a week you'll be coming back.

The two ponies disappear inside and a few minutes later, a light comes on upstairs.

Two shadows appear on a curtain, thrown up there by the light, and the last thing you see before the light is extinguished is the two shadows becoming one.

Your mind is already working on devising a method of killing them both that looks accidental as your body leaves Ponyville.

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** fringes of Ponyville. 0636 Hours, March 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

People have a tendency to say bombs go off.

That's not true.

Milk goes off, as does food.

Going off implies that the item in question is no fit to be consumed, or will not work in the intended manner.

What bombs do is function, detonate, and destroy the immediate vicinity or incinerate it, depending on their payload.

This is precisely what happened at 0635 when Pinkie Pie came into the kitchen, bouncing across the wooden floor.

She did as Sky said, turning the gas on but not lighting it, smelling for anything out of the ordinary.

You watched this all on a small screen on your HUD, a live feed from the camera you installed.

Pinkie Pie nods to herself, unable to smell gas, and places her hoof on the ignite button for the oven.

You nod to yourself as well, bringing up the detonator for the C12.

Both you and Pinkie press your respective buttons within seconds of one another.

The oven goes click, the C12 goes beep, then all further sights and noises are lost when the image turns to static within a millisecond.

From your position a mile or so from Ponyville's outer edges, and another one and a half from Sugarcube Corner, even you can hear the loud boom as the C12 detonates, catching the gas as it flows around the bakery in the pipes and cause them to detonate as well.

There's a slight tremor in the ground and you look through a break in the trees to see a cloud of dust rise up above Ponyville, followed soon after by the beginnings of a plume of black smoke.

Whatever gas wasn't in the pipes, and therefore not under pressure, would be leaking and on fire from the violent exothermic reaction that had occurred mere seconds ago.

Though the building is concealed from view by houses, you later find out that Sugarcube Corner simply ceased to exist as both a business and a building, leaving behind only charred foundations and copious amounts of debris that scattered itself in a half mile radius, centred on the crater that had once been Ponyville's primary bakery.

Ponies would no doubt flock to the site, confused at first then mortified that five ponies, two of them foals, were killed without anything left behind to bury.

There will be an inquiry, of course, and the verdict will be that the oven was old and long overdue an inspection, an accident waiting to happen.

Nobody will stop and think the explosion was the result of a hostile force, simply placing it down to sheer misfortune.

Of course, the death of another of Celestia's aides will raise a large amount of media attention so it's time for a masking death. Those two unicorns from this morning, Lyra and Tyco, will serve your needs adequately.

You're already plotting their deaths when word comes down for the next target.

In town, completely unaware her days are now numbered to less than fourteen, Rarity is likely running to her friend's home, aghast at what has happened.

Another note is left with Shadow, asking him what fashion shows are coming up that Rarity will attend.

A train derailment will nicely cover her murder up but if no shows are on, or if none require train rides over bridges, then something else will have to suffice.

But first there is the matter of Lyra and Tyco to contend with.

You settle on fire as your chosen method of execution, with sedatives to ensure neither unicorn awakens during the inferno and tries to escape.

Carbon monoxide poisoning will serve as a viable reasoning as to why they didn't try to flee the flames.

So, with you plan roughed out, you settle in for a week's wait.


	5. Misdirection and Witnesses

**AN: ****I don't own My Little Pony or Halo. They belong to Hasbro and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Misdirection and Witnesses

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** fringes of Ponyville. 2314 Hours, April 03, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

It's time to throw a little misdirection at the citizens of Ponyville.

With the loss of two of Celestia's trusted advisors, the various media outlets in the region are quickly picking up on the fact and making it headline news.

You know that if you were to kill another one without a masking death in the intervening two weeks, suspicions will be raised and questions will be asked, like was Fluttershy really the victim of natural causes?

If they questioned that enough, the doctors might exhume her corpse and perform a detailed autopsy, finding evidence she had her oxygen supply cut off by a foreign object, and determine she had been killed.

So, it's time to eliminate a pony or two who aren't part of Celestia's inner circle.

Lyra and Tyco.

The mare may have seen you, and who knows what she might have said upon sobering up, so she is therefore a possible risk and requires removing.

It's only luck that she can be useful to you as well, as can her lover Tyco.

You slip into Ponyville under a moonless night, the clouds overhead thick and covering the entire sky as far as you can see. Streetlights try to beat back the darkness but only offer sporadic oasis of light in an otherwise desert of darkness.

There's nobody present, not even cats, and your journey into town goes unobserved and unimpeded.

The door's lock provides no major difficulty, a typical lever tumbler design, and you have it undone in less than ten seconds.

You could have had it opened in less than half a second but smashing it down with the sole of your boot would create far too much noise and mess, and this is supposed to be a stealthy venture to kill the two ponies above you.

They're awake, you think, as from above comes the sound of a bed rhythmically creaking and the loud moans of two ponies, keeping their pace for several more minutes before a big finish, then silence.

You remain downstairs, motionless, for the best part of an hour, waiting to see if one of the other comes down for a drink or other, but they don't, and you eventually begin moving again, searching the house for what you might need.

Tyco mentioned something about Lyra being prone to imaging things while under the influence of alcohol, and you find a few bottles of the stuff, ranging from simple cider all the way up to harder drinks like brandy and whiskey.

You take a few, along with a candle and some matches, then go upstairs, taking the steps one at a time and slowly, minimising the creaking noise made.

The top floor is a relatively simple layout, possessing a hallway with rooms branching off it, and dark and clear.

Your boots make no sound as they come down on the wooden floor, nor do the floorboards at taking such a weight as yours, but the door hinges do as they get used, creaking very faintly but in the silence of the night, they're almost deafening.

But, thankfully, the noise does little to disturb your targets as they continue to sleep, cuddling each other beneath a plain quilt, looks of content on their faces.

Their chests rise in rhythm with each other, one going up as one goes down, and they both occasionally murmur something in their sleep.

Tyco seems particularly prone to this, corner of his mouth twitching as half a sound comes out, and you take a moment to watch the scene before you.

A couple, likely deeply in love, and about to be killed by an alien warrior.

It fills a very small part of you with regret but, you have your orders.

To begin with, you inject both ponies with a sedative designed to keep them under and will metabolise quickly, triggered once the monoxide levels in the bloodstream reach a certain concentration, to keep it from being detected during a follow up autopsy should one be performed.

It's designed expressly for this type of assassination, keeping the would be target in a state of unconsciousness until the monoxide build up reaches a lethal dose, and to then destroy itself to avoid detection by a drugs screen.

Even the best the UNSC can provide would have difficulty detecting this sedative, and the more basic technological capabilities of humanity far outstrip even the most advanced Equestria has to offer.

They'll never know foul play was involved.

Lyra and Tyco make no outward acknowledgement of the injections, placed along their hairlines to avoid leaving behind any telltale marks, and remain asleep even after several powerful shakes from you.

They're out, dreaming their last, and you stow the syringes away, heading back downstairs to set the next phase of your plan into action.

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** fringes of Ponyville. 0011 Hours, April 04, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

All it takes is a few empty bottles of alcohol, some spilled contents, and a precariously perched candle to set the blaze.

You know only some forms of alcohol will burn, usually those with a high proof content, but thankfully Lyra and Tyco had a varied assortment in their cabinet.

The main issue was preparing the scene so that, to an arson investigator, it would appear to be a case of an intimate night gone wrong.

Two young lovers, in the mood for a romantic night, decide to have a dinner alone with drinks, emptying most of the cupboard to find something appropriate and leaving what they deemed as unsuitable out for cleanup later, perhaps next morning when the buzz had worn off.

Whatever their reason, and perhaps due to eagerness, some had been spilled, some cleaned up, most left alone, and a candle perched on a sill next to an open window, just waiting for a stiff breeze to knock it down.

Even a dunce could piece together what happens next.

You slip out the front door, lock it behind you, then place a camera on the building opposite so you can know what happens next.

It doesn't take long for the fire to start, its presence masked from the outside by having the blinds and curtains all drawn, and by the time somebody outside might have noticed the orange glow from within, it would be too late.

Of course, being the middle of the night, there's nobody around to spot the glow and raise the alarm, meaning the fire is allowed to grow unchecked.

You watch your camera's feed, counting the time between fire lit and fire discovered, somewhat shocked to count well past thirty minutes, at which point the fire is upstairs and your actions at keeping Lyra and Tyco sedated to die via monoxide poisoning were in vain as the intense heat and flame will reduce their bodies to cinders.

Still, it takes the fire breaking the windows and leaning out of the frames to suck in oxygen for the alarm to be raised, at which point it isn't a question of searching for survivors but a question of how to contain the inferno?

Lyra and Tyco's house was on the end of a row and the fire begins to spread along the line, licking at the outer facades and at the hay roofs, showing no signs of stopping.

A crowd gathers, the fire fighters arrive, ponies are evacuated from their homes, the blaze tackled, a process taking nearly an hour.

It comes at a cost of the initial house you set fire to, and two more down the line, and you later learn that five more ponies perished in the flames, among them two foals and a pregnant mother.

You take the news without any kind of reaction, inward or outward, not quite feeling up to congratulating yourself on a job well done when innocent children were caught in the crossfire.

Instead you compose yourself and await Shadow's intel, its content dictating how Rarity will die.

**Spartan-B312**_**,**_** Everfree Forest. 1200 Hours, April 06, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

Sleep for a lone operator is often a difficult thing to accomplish.

There's no one watching over you, nobody on sentry duty, and each moment you're asleep is a chance for the enemy to sneak up and discover you.

Your only aid in this endeavour is the motion tracker built into your armour, a set of eyes that can extend to a seventy metre circle at maximum, trading accuracy for range, and capable of having a proximity alarm should anything come within a certain distance.

It's currently set to maximum range, and to chime when a contact moves towards you. So often have you woken up for trees swaying in the breeze, triggering the sensor, that it took the technicians onboard the _Tempest _a whole week to write a software patch that disregarded these and focused on contacts moving on a more linear path.

Your sleep duration almost doubles thanks to it, though you sleep lightly, not quite trusting the motion tracker to do its job well enough.

Training made it clear that reliance on machines can lead to downfall.

A Spartan relies on their head, not equipment. It would serve and protect them better.

It does, and you jerk awake as the proximity alert sounds, seeing three far off contacts moving in roughly your direction.

Two are clustered together and moving on a vector that'll take them away from your little camp, but the third is practically right on top of you.

You switch from seventy metres to the standard twenty-five, seeing the contact is literally on top of you, and you hear childlike voices filtering in over the forest noises.

'Sweetie Belle!' one voice yells. 'Come on! We're supposed to be back in Ponyville by now. Why are you taking so long?'

'I'm just looking around,' a new voice responds, coming from just beyond the tree you're slumped against. 'Don't worry, I'll be right there.'

Your mind spools up the full speed in seconds, assessing your options rather than wasting time panicking.

There are at least three ponies here, one right next to you and likely within seconds of uncovering you, and you have to remain undetected.

Your armour's colour doesn't quite fit into the local foliage and this Sweetie Belle will be within arm's reach of you, so she'll have no trouble seeing you.

Briefly you lament not having the Semi-Powered Infiltration armour from your days on Onyx, having its photo reactive panels to blend into the trees and ground, but mainly you focus on the imminent contact between you and Sweetie Belle.

She comes around the tree, a spring in her steps, and you recognise her from Luna's dossier on all your main targets, Rarity's little sister.

White coat, pink and purple mane and tail, a horn. She sticks out worse than you in the Everfree Forest.

But upon walking around the tree, a smile that had been on her face freezes and fades upon seeing you crouched before her, a faceless metallic demon.

Her initial reaction is to lock up in disbelief and terror. Yours is to consider possible ways of limiting the damage from this encounter.

It all hinges on her next reaction.

Sweetie Belle decides, sealing her fate.

She opens her mouth to scream, drawing in a huge lungful of air to unleash in a noise likely to wake even the dead, as her eyes grow massive in fear.

Your mouth stays closed, a grim mask, as your hand darts out with the speed only a Spartan can manage wearing armour that augments every motion, fingers wrapping around the little filly's neck.

Without a second thought you snap it, a quick motion that crushes everything there from her windpipe, to her vertebrae, to her spinal column.

Everything is crushed, her scream never comes.

Death is quick for the unicorn. With her spinal column severed, her heart stops beating, her brain shuts down, her eyes go glassy as the life in them winks out, leaving you holding her corpse.

The voice from early comes back, calling her name and getting closer.

You make the decision to move, gathering everything of yours up, taking Sweetie Belle with you.

Leaving her body behind would raise too many questions, questions that would undermine everything you've done this far to keep your presence a secret.

You keep a tight hold of the now dead pony and sprint off into the woods, away from the two alive ponies that are closing in on you, searching in vain for their friend.


End file.
